6) My husband is a rock star, ifIdosaysomyself. He’s been busting his buns at work on an amendment to the financial regulatory reform bill. As of last night, he had already clocked 47 hours in the office this week. (Most nights, I was long asleep by the time he came home.) He was excited when the amendment was introduced yesterday, and this morning we saw a too-good-to-be-true editorial in the Wall Street Journal about why it is so needed. (Read it, but if it makes your head hurt, don't worry. You can join my club.)
5) There's a downside to all that work. The running around this week wreaked a bit of havoc on Chad's knee, so when he went into the surgeon today for his final appointment there was a bit of swelling. This means no football for another six weeks but all the softball his little heart desires. Fortunately, he plays on a Thursday league so he was all packed and ready to go tonight… And don't tell him, but I'm kind of happy that he's going to ease back into these sports.
4) ...And this is what a farmer’s wife feels like. Chad said he’d be home between 8-9. Great, I said, I'm going to make chicken parmesan to celebrate the end of your crazy week of work. I got home from a haircut. Took Lucy out for a good walk. Got to work in the kitchen. At 8:42, everything was trimmed and breaded and ready to go in the oven. I called his cell. No answer. Called his work cell. Nothing. Called his office. He picked up on the first ring. "The Senate is still voting," he said. "I'm not sure how long I'll be." "Well then I'm making a snack," I said. "And, by the way, when were you planning to tell me this?"
(To all the farmer's wives I know...at what point do I put this in the fridge and decide to make it tomorrow night?)
3) Parting is sweet sorrow. Today was my CEO's last day at work. She's been at NRF for over 30 years and made the decision about a year ago to retire. We've hired her replacement, who starts Monday, and she had her office packed up and ready to go today. I've known this was coming for a really long time, but I still don't totally believe it. She's been such an incredible mentor to me (not to mention an amazing, thoughtful person) that seeing her retire is like having a member of my family move away. You know the family member who always keeps you honest - the one you really don't want to screw up in front of and still knows how to make you squirm? That one.
2) Happy birthday to my Grandpa Howard. He's 87. Or 88. (When you get past a certain point, can't you just stop counting?) Regardless, I love that I called tonight to wish him happy birthday and the answering machine picked up. He was probably out having dinner with friends or "day-tripping," as Grandma calls it. Earlier today he may have stopped by one of the farms just to see what was going on, or try to offer his assistance. I hope when I'm 87 (or 88) that I'm still lively enough to celebrate my birthday. And I hope Chad's around to do it with me. Surely he won't be working by then...right?
1) Was that just a week ago? Last weekend, about a dozen girls got together and went out to a cabin in the Shenandoah wilderness for Janice's bachelorette party. (I use the term "cabin" loosely - this place had seven bedrooms, leather furniture, a hot tub, pool table, a giant firepit and the world's most amazing kitchen.) Two of our cousins made the trip from California and we legitimately could not have had more fun, or better weather. Janice was a good sport despite all the tricks we had up our sleeves, no one managed to fall out of the canoe on Saturday when we went out on the water, and I ate so much I had to wear elastic pants on the trip home. It was one of those perfect weekends that no amount of pictures could do justice. Even though there are pictures. And videos. Call it blackmail.
And in a case of perfect timing, the phone just rang. Chad will be home in a half-hour. It's going to be a late dinner - again - but I'm channeling my inner farm wife and telling myself that old adage about eating two hours before bedtime is a load of hooey.
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